All In
by JoAnnB
Summary: With the help of four friends, our favorite outlaws might finally receive their amnesty—or, they might be in the biggest trouble of their lives. Series time-line. Co-written with Grace R. Williams.
1. Chapter 1

**All In**

**By JoAnn Baker and Grace R. Williams**

* * *

**Lobby of the Brown Palace Hotel – Denver, Colorado**

**Site of the 1887 Meeting of the U.S. Territorial Governors Association**

"Conrad? Conrad Zulick!"

C. Meyer Zulick, governor of the U.S. Territory of Arizona, grasped the hand extended toward him. "Governor Moonlight! Let me see, when was the last time..."

"Cleveland's presidential campaign, back in '84."

"Ah, the election. It seems such a long time ago," Zulick remembered, his eyes lighting with the thrill of a presidential race. He brought his thoughts back to the present. "Good to see you again, Moonie. I haven't had the opportunity to properly congratulate you since your gubernatorial appointment by President Cleveland this past January."

"Thank you." Thomas Moonlight chuckled. "My, what a whirlwind exchange that was! For a while, the Territory of Wyoming was changing governors more often than we Union officers had a chance to change our drawers during the War Between the States. And what an exciting tale you must have to tell about your own appointment, Conrad! Held hostage in Mexico, rescued in the nick of time. I'd love to hear your story, straight from the horse's mouth, so to speak."

As the governors talked, they were approached from either side by two gentlemen.

"Governor Moonlight," Zulick said, "I'd like you to meet my right arm, Doc Donovan, the man who orchestrated the rescue you just mentioned."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Governor," Donovan nodded.

Moonlight and Donovan shook hands before Governor Moonlight introduced the second man. "Governor Zulick, Mr. Donovan, meet Sheriff Lom Trevors."

"Sheriff Trevors of Porterville, Wyoming?" Donovan wondered, eyeing the lawman curiously.

"That's right," Lom confirmed. He shook the politician's hand, then Donovan's, taking note of Doc's thoughtful expression. "Have we met, Mr. Donovan?"

"No, no. It's just...your reputation precedes you, Sheriff Trevors. You're providing security for Governor Moonlight, I presume?"

"Lom is acting as my advisor, Mr. Donovan," Moonlight interjected.

"Pleasure to meet you," Doc responded, smiling. "Both of you. And, call me Doc." Donovan glanced toward Zulick and checked his pocket watch. "Governor, we need to hurry in order to make your next appointment."

"Yes, indeed," Zulick nodded. "Moonie, we must get together, rehash old times. This evening, perhaps? My suite?"

"Definitely! See you then, Conrad."

**Governor Zulick's Suite – Later That Evening**

"Moonie!" Zulick greeted, throwing wide the door to his room in welcome. "Sheriff Trevors, so glad you could join us."

Lom nodded an acknowledgement and accepted the drink Donovan offered.

"Sit down, gentlemen, please," Zulick invited. "We have so much to talk about; I hardly know where to begin."

"Let's begin with the tale of your appointment, Conrad," Moonlight suggested excitedly. "I want to hear how you narrowly escaped death in Mexico!"

Zulick held up a hand and chuckled. "Nothing quite that dramatic, Moonie, but it was a rather exciting experience. There was a labor dispute, you see, and..."

As Conrad Zulick told his story, Lom Trevors again felt Donovan's eyes on him. He turned and met the man's gaze, which distracted him from much of Governor Zulick's animated telling of the tale.

"...So Cleveland sent Doc to find me, and Doc wisely engaged the assistance of two men," Zulick continued.

Donovan was still watching Lom's eyes in anticipation of Zulick's revelation.

"...Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones."

Surprise at hearing the two familiar names caused Lom's eyes to flicker, only slightly, yet Donovan had the information he needed. He raised an eyebrow.

"...Capable men indeed. Capable and honorable. Handled the whole situation without bloodshed, effectively liberating me from Mexico and returning me safely to Arizona in time for my appointment by President Cleveland."

"Sheriff Trevors, why don't you and I let the governors reminisce?" Donovan suggested, still watching Lom.

"Yes, why don't the two of you go on downstairs to the Gentlemen's Club, enjoy yourselves a little?" Zulick encouraged. "Moonie and I could be talking for hours."

"Governor?" Lom checked.

"Go ahead, Lom, I'll be fine. As Conrad said, enjoy yourself."

"If you're sure," Lom decided, following Donovan from the room.

**Inside the Gentlemen's Club**

"You going to tell me why you've been staring since we met this afternoon?" Lom asked, sliding his empty glass toward Donovan.

Doc filled Lom's glass. "Just wondering about something," he replied, cryptically.

"Sometimes it's best to come right out and ask. What is it you want to know, Doc?"

"Oh, I believe I already have the information I was looking for, Sheriff. A portion of it anyway." He pushed the glass toward Trevors.

Lom sipped his drink with a casual air. "Care to enlighten me?"

"I believe you and I have mutual friends, Sheriff Trevors. Joshua Smith and Thaddeus Jones. The men who helped rescue Governor Zulick from Mexico."

Inwardly fortifying the walls protecting his secret pact, Lom nodded, nonchalantly. "Smith and Jones? Sure I know 'em. Good men. They've done some work for me over the past couple of years."

Donovan smiled and leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Only, both you and I know Smith and Jones aren't their real names."

Lom projected a practiced look of innocent confusion. "I'm afraid you've lost me, Doc."

Donovan leaned closer, conspiratorially. "Smith and Jones are really Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry." He waited expectantly, watching carefully for Lom's reaction.

Lom paused, and then finished his drink in one gulp. He pushed away from the table and rose. "Mr. Donovan, thank you for the drink." He turned to leave.

Donovan spoke quickly, "And if there is any truth to the rumor that Governor Moonlight is considering amnesty for the two of them, I would like to help. More importantly, I am certain Governor Zulick would like to help."

Quietly, Lom returned to his seat. Still non-committal about his knowledge of Heyes' and Curry's identities, but with an edge to his voice that could have been piqued curiosity, or even anger, he stated, "You've got two minutes. Start talking."

**Governor Zulick's Suite – A Short While Later**

Donovan knocked at the door of Governor Zulick's suite, then, using his key, opened it himself. He and Lom entered.

"Back so soon, Doc?" Zulick wondered.

"There's something Sheriff Trevors and I would like to discuss with you." His glance took in both Governor Zulick and Governor Moonlight. "With both of you."

"What is it?" Zulick asked, and Thomas Moonlight mirrored his friend's willingness to listen.

"It's about Smith and Jones, the two men who rescued you from Mexico, Governor Zulick," Donovan began.

Lom joined in. "And it's about Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, Governor Moonlight. The two men waiting for the amnesty you promised."

"I don't see what this has to do with..." Moonlight began.

Donovan interrupted. "This has to do with the fact that Smith and Jones ARE Heyes and Curry!"

Zulick stood, mouth agape. "What? That can't be! The men who assisted in my rescue were..."

"They were Heyes and Curry, Governor," Donovan admitted. "I knew who they were when I hired them. I needed help to get you out of Mexico and when I stumbled across the two of them, well, it was wrong, I know, exploiting their services the way I did, but at the time it sure seemed right."

"Smith and Jones," Zulick muttered, shaking his head and taking his seat again. "Wanted outlaws."

"That's true," Lom began, "Heyes and Curry are still wanted, but they have a deal with Governor Moonlight, and before that, with Governors Warren and Baxter."

"What kind of deal?" Zulick asked.

"Amnesty!" beamed Donovan.

"Is this true, Moonie?"

"Heyes and Curry were promised amnesty by Governor Warren, and myself, yes, IF they stayed out of trouble for a year." Moonlight shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"And have they?" Zulick asked.

"They have," Lom confirmed, "for more than three years."

Governor Zulick stood, placing a hand on Governor Moonlight's shoulder, and turned to face the other two men. "Doc, Sheriff Trevors, Governor Moonlight and I need to speak for a moment—in private."

**-ooOoo-**

"Is it true that Heyes and Curry could be granted amnesty with a simple stroke of your pen?" Zulick asked his old friend when they were alone.

Moonlight rose and paced thoughtfully. "It's far more complicated than you make it sound, Conrad. As a governor you should know that no decision is as simple as it seems. If I were to grant their amnesty now..."

Zulick nodded. "The political climate."

A long silence followed, with Moonlight crossing to the window and gazing at the busy streets of Denver below, while Zulick reclined in his easy chair with his head bowed, fingers flexing thoughtfully in his lap.

Finally Zulick spoke. "You've changed."

Moonlight turned abruptly to face his old friend. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, where is the man I once knew? The officer whose commitment to justice demanded he risk life and limb to pursue Quantrill's Raiders after the Lawrence Massacre? You do realize, Moonlight, that these young men, Heyes and Curry, are Kansans, like yourself! Their families were victims of..."

"I know their story, Conrad!" Moonlight barked, defensively. "And it doesn't change the fact that for years they have thumbed their noses at authority, making a mockery of law enforcement by their continual..."

"Continual? Sheriff Trevors says they've stayed on the right side of the law for the past three years. Do you have evidence to the contrary?"

"No, no evidence but..."

"So they've lived up to their part of the bargain. Especially considering the deal was that they stay out of trouble for one year, yet they've succeeded in fulfilling their commitment three times over. This does seem to indicate a marked persistence, doesn't it?"

"Mmm," Moonlight acknowledged.

"One might even say they've been rehabilitated. And certainly the Territory of Wyoming wouldn't want the unnecessary financial obligation of incarcerating men for punishment and rehabilitation who have already proven themselves to be, shall we say, self-reformed?" Zulick paused, sending his colleague a diplomatically-perceptive smile. "Yes, self-reformed! Moonlight, you are indeed brilliant! You've managed to manipulate these two desperate criminals into mending their outlaw ways, assuring a significant savings to the railroads and banks of your territory, not to mention," Zulick stood and patted Governor Moonlight's shoulder, as if in congratulations, "you've done it ALL at NO cost to your territory's tax-paying public! Good work, my man! No wonder President Cleveland appointed you governor!"

Moonlight looked confused, his mouth opening and closing several times while Zulick had been speaking, but finally, he joined his friend in a full smile. "Thank you, Conrad!"

"Tell me, when had you planned to present Heyes and Curry with their amnesty?"

"Well, I, uh...soon, very soon, I assure you. "

"Wonderful! You can write their letters of amnesty now." Zulick ushered Moonlight to a desk, rummaged through a drawer for paper and then nudged the inkwell closer to his long-time friend. He watched as Governor Moonlight began composing the documents granting Hannibal Heyes and Jedediah Curry full amnesty.

When Moonlight finished, he stood. "It's getting late."

"Yes, it is," Zulick checked his pocket watch. "I guess you'd better be going if you're catching the early train back to Wyoming in the morning."

"Early train?"

"Of course! So that you can file those documents with the Territory of Wyoming immediately. Wouldn't want anything to happen to our friends, Smith and Jones," Zulick paused to wink, "before those papers are officially stamped with your seal, Governor." He ushered Moonlight toward the door and opened it.

Lom Trevors and Doc Donovan, who had been waiting just outside the door, exchanged a hopeful glance and then turned their eyes to both governors expectantly.

"Sheriff Trevors, send our friends a telegram and tell them to get here on the double," Zulick grinned broadly. "I want to be the first to congratulate them. I'll let them know the official documents are forthcoming."

**Colorado Springs, Colorado**

"You're not gonna listen to me, are you?" Curry asked, frustrated.

"I'm listening to you. I just don't share your opinion of our old friend, Governor Zulick."

"It's not my opinion of Zulick; he seemed like a real nice guy. I just don't trust the people around him. You remember Doc Donovan, don't you?"

"How could I forget him? He turned us in right after he paid us for the job."

Curry smiled wryly. "He knew where you kept your lock pick, too."

"Real observant guy, that Doc," Heyes muttered. "Kid, if I remember correctly, you were the one who wanted to stay in Arizona. 'We have a friend here,' I think you said."

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind. It's a bad idea. And goin' to Denver to see him at this governors' convention is even worse. Heyes, the whole town's gonna be crawlin' with lawmen—some of 'em who know us on sight!"

"Lom wants us to come."

"I don't care what Lom wants! He's not the one lookin' at twenty years in prison!"

Heyes bristled at that. "Well, if you don't like it, you don't have to go."

Curry stared, open-mouthed, at his partner. "And just who is gonna watch your back? Huh? Who's gonna keep you safe like I been doin' all these years?"

"Kid, I did a pretty good job of taking care of myself before we partnered up, and I can still take care of myself just fine."

"Oh, you think so?" Curry leaned in and got in his partner's face. "You won't last ten minutes without me."

Heyes glared back. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, that's so."

"I'm tired of waiting around for whoever is governor of Wyoming these days to get around to considering our amnesty. If Conrad Zulick can help us get it, then I'm going—with or without you."

"What?" Curry stared incredulously at his partner.

"You heard me. I'll go talk to Zulick, and if this is about our amnesty I'll wire you here in Colorado Springs. It's only a two-day ride so you'll hear from me soon."

"Well, maybe I won't be here. Maybe I'll take that job we were offered out at Cripple Creek."

"They only had room for one blaster out at the mine."

"Exactly."

Heyes' eyes widened. "Don't do anything stupid, Kid. Wait here for me."

"Are you callin' me stupid?" Curry's temper flared.

"No, I said don't DO anything stupid."

"Sounds like the same thing to me. Alright, Heyes, do it your way—you always do. Just don't expect me to come after you if you get into trouble."

**Buckhorn Tavern – Denver**

Hannibal Heyes sat at a small corner table with Sheriff Lom Trevors. "Is this for real? No tricks or conditions? No 'one more job to get on the governor's good side'? I rode two days to get here so it better not be a joke."

"No joke, Heyes, it's really true. Governor Moonlight signed your amnesty papers. He returned to Cheyenne to file them proper two days ago. Governor Zulick wanted to congratulate you himself before the news gets out and every reporter in town wants to interview you." Trevors grinned. "You'd better wire the Kid and tell him to get here on the double. Zulick wants to congratulate both of you."

"I'll send a telegram today."

"Alright, I'll tell Donovan to set it up. You remember him, don't you?"

"Sure, I never forget a man pulls a gun on me," Heyes said, ruefully.

Trevors laughed. "Well, I think he's had a change of heart. But now, I have to get back to Porterville—I've been away too long and I can't expect poor Deputy Harker to hold down the fort forever."

**Brown Palace Hotel – Denver**

"Mr. Heyes?" A familiar-looking man stepped out from the doorway to greet Heyes.

"Doc," Heyes said, cautiously shaking the man's hand.

"I'm glad you came. I, uh, understand if you aren't particularly happy to see me."

"The last time I saw you it was from behind bars," Heyes said.

"Yes, well, I really am very sorry about that," Donovan said softly.

Heyes nodded. "Well, shall we go on up to see the governor?"

"Where is Mr. Curry?" Donovan asked, suddenly wary. "Wasn't three days sufficient time for him to get here?"

"He can't make it," Heyes replied quickly, "but I'm here, so let's get on with it."

Donavon studied Heyes' face for a moment, wondering what could have happened to keep the man's partner from attending such an important meeting. "Ah, okay, come with me. You're on his calendar as Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones."

Heyes nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. And Moonlight? When is he going to announce our amnesty?"

"Right after Governor Zulick has a chance to personally congratulate you."

"Alright then, let's get on with it," Heyes said tersely.

The two men took the elevator and exited on Zulick's floor. They were met by a man Heyes guessed to be around thirty years old, with dark hair and close set eyes.

"Is this Mr. Smith or Mr. Jones?" the man asked.

The way he said 'Smith' and 'Jones' made Heyes think the man knew they were aliases.

"Mr. Smith is here to see Governor Zulick," Donovan replied. "Mr. Smith, this is Mr. Parker, one of the governor's aides."

"Thank you, I'll take it from here," Parker said.

Donovan hesitated at first, but then nodded and stepped back.

Parker ushered Heyes into Zulick's suite. Heyes glanced around the room, amazed at the décor and surprised by the size. The suite was larger than many of the homes he had been in.

"I'll need to hold on to your gun," Parker said, firmly but politely.

Heyes hesitated, then reluctantly handed over the pistol. Parker led the way through another set of doors and into a room that served as an office. Zulick sat at a desk near the window.

"Mr. Heyes!" Zulick exclaimed, as he rose to greet the men. "Or should I say, Mr. Smith," he added softly, shaking Heyes' hand.

"No sense denying it, since that's why I'm here," Heyes said with a wry smile.

"Yes, of course. Please sit down. Thank you, Parker, you can leave us."

The aide nodded and left, closing the doors behind him.

"Mr. Heyes, it's good to see you. But where is Mr. Curry? He's well, I hope."

"Ah, yes, I hope so too."

Zulick looked back curiously for a moment before proceeding. "Well, let's get down to it. I suppose Trevors told you that Governor Moonlight signed your amnesty?"

"Yes, sir, and he said we have you to thank for that," Heyes smiled broadly.

Zulick let out a laugh and smiled. "Well, Mr. Heyes, you certainly get right to the point, don't you? Yes, I spoke to my good friend Governor Moonlight. One thing I'd like to know, so I'm sure I did the right thing, is it true that you have not broken the law since Governor Warren first offered you a chance for amnesty?"

"Yes, sir; well, mostly," Heyes hedged.

Zulick frowned.

"We never stole anything for ourselves, and we never hurt anybody," Heyes said quickly. "Once we had to break into a bank president's house to prove he'd stolen his own bank's money."

"Why would you do that?" Zulick looked confused.

"Sir, he was blaming us, and we needed to prove our innocence."

"I see; anything else?"

"The only time we broke the law was when we needed to help an innocent person and see that the guilty party was exposed."

"Why would you risk being caught to help an innocent person?"

"Well," Heyes said sheepishly, "the innocent person was usually me or the Kid. This amnesty is real important to us. We've been doing everything the governors have asked. We stopped robbing and we've been working hard to be law-abiding citizens."

Zulick nodded. "If rescuing me is any example of the way you've been conducting yourselves, then I feel comfortable that I did the right thing. You know—"

At that moment, the outer doors opened and Zulick's aide, Parker, entered and took a few steps into the room. The governor looked at Parker with annoyance that turned to shock when the aide pulled out a revolver that had been hidden under his coat. Before Zulick or Heyes could react, Parker aimed the gun at the governor's head and pulled the trigger. Parker dropped the gun and raced for the door.

Heyes instinctively grabbed the discarded gun and ran to the doorway. He aimed at the retreating man and squeezed the trigger but the gun clicked harmlessly. Heyes looked down to see his own gun in his hand. He squeezed the trigger again, but still nothing.

Heyes ran back to the governor and saw blood running down the side of the man's head. He stood there, holding the empty gun as Donovan rushed in, followed closely by Parker.

**Jail – Denver**

NOTORIOUS OUTLAW ARRESTED!

The headline seemed to catapult from the paper it was written on to the bloodshot eyes of Hannibal Heyes. He shut them, in an attempt to block out the gravity of his situation.

After twenty-four hours on a hard jail-cell bunk, Heyes rubbed at his temples, wishing he could erase this horrible nightmare. But, when he opened his eyes Lom Trevors was still standing outside his cell holding the latest edition of the _Denver Rocky Mountain News_.

"You want to explain what the devil happened?" the lawman asked.

Heyes glared at his old friend. "I don't know, Lom, why don't you tell me? You sent for me."

"Well, you'd better say something." Lom pushed a plate of food under the bars, pulled up a stool and sat. "Eat, then start talking."

Heyes pushed the food aside. "I was set up."

"Set up by who? And why? You don't think I had anything to do with this?"

"No. I don't know." Heyes sat down on the bunk and dropped his head into his hands.

"Where's the Kid?"

Heyes gave a reluctant shrug. "He never showed up."

"Why not? Didn't you wire him and tell him to come?"

"Of course I did. You know I did. He was supposed to be waiting for word from me in Colorado Springs, but it's already been four days since I wired him, and I haven't heard anything, not a word." Heyes' shoulders drooped further and he hung his head. "The Kid and I didn't exactly part on the best of terms."

"If he had an ounce of brains he'd be as far from here as he can get," Lom mumbled.

"The Kid's not stupid, Lom." Heyes' own words came back to haunt him, and he regretted every one. _Don't do anything stupid, Kid._

"You think he ran into some kind of trouble? The Kid would never turn his back on you." Lom bit his tongue before the next two words of doubt could be delivered. No, Kid Curry would never turn his back on Hannibal Heyes, would he? Instead Lom asked, "So where do you think he is?"

Heyes stood and crossed the cell to the small, bar-covered window and gazed out. "Good question."

To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

**Colorado Springs – One Week Earlier**

Kid Curry sheltered his eyes with an elbow and groaned. The tattered shade on the single window of his miserably east-facing, third story room had been left open. He glanced toward the door. No chair shoved under the doorknob. Why hadn't Heyes...? But then Curry remembered. Heyes had gone to Denver. He was here in Colorado Springs, alone. Cursing his own forgetfulness, he pulled a pillow over his face, attempting to block out the sun, as well as the soft tapping that had awakened him.

The tapping continued.

The Kid buried his head deeper in the pillow, trying to silence the offending noise.

"Mr. Jones? Mr. Jones, are you awake?"

"No," the Kid responded, not loudly enough to be heard by anyone other than the spider who busily constructed her web in an upper corner of his room.

Despite his lack of acknowledgement, the door opened and a young doe-eyed blonde entered. "Housekeepin', Mr. Jones. I'm sorry to disturb you. I'm here to collect your laundry. Mrs. Bertram sent me, and she says to remind you breakfast will be ready promptly at eight o'clock."

Della Jenkins allowed her eyes to wander across the room and linger on the partially exposed torso of Thaddeus Jones, her favorite new resident at Bertram's Bed and Board.

"What day is it?"

"Monday, sir. Laundry day. That's why I'm here," she reminded, reaching for a few items of clothing strewn across a chair while enjoying the view. "You want me to lay you out somethin' clean from your dresser drawer?"

"I been dressin' myself for quite some time now, Della. I think I can handle it." Curry rose and moved toward the dresser, clad in only his long-johns.

Della's eyes grew wide.

"Here." He handed her a shirt from the floor. "I think that, along with the pile you've already collected, just about covers it."

Della blushed and looked away. "Except for your unmentionables, Mr. Jones."

The Kid met her eyes and raised an eyebrow, playfully. He reached for the waistband.

"No! I didn't mean you should...I'll leave a basket in the hall and you can put them in there, soon as you're..." Della ran her eyes over the excessive amount of exposed flesh and swallowed hard. "Soon as you're decent," she finished before she darted quickly out of his room.

**-ooOoo-**

"Here you go, Della." A freshly shaved and dressed Curry dropped his long-johns and a towel into Della's laundry basket.

"Thanks," she replied, shyly.

He paused momentarily and smiled. "Don't believe anyone's ever thanked me before for lettin' 'em wash my dirty socks and drawers."

Della giggled quietly. "If you'll be out for the mornin', Mr. Jones, I'll clean your room and see to the changin' of your sheets."

"That'll be fine."

A yell could be heard from two stories below. "Della! You tell Mr. Jones his breakfast is waiting! You hear?"

"Yes, ma'am, Mrs. Bertram," Della called back, then smiled and shrugged. "Mrs. Bertram says your breakfast is waitin'."

"So I heard." Curry walked toward the staircase, feeling Della's eyes following him as he moved away. He turned around quickly, catching her staring, and grinned. "Oh, and Della, when you're cleanin' my room, I'm sure you'll notice a spider web in the upper, southeast corner..."

"I'll be sure to get rid of it, Mr. Jones."

"No! Don't do that. That spider's kind of special." He winked. "Kinda nice havin' her around."

He smiled again before he descended the stairs, and Della felt her heart skip a beat.

**-ooOoo-**

"I know what you're thinkin'," Della said as she tossed a sock from the wash basin into the rinse basin. "You're thinkin' I'd be just plain stupid to be thinkin' like I am."

A barn cat, basking in the sun on a nearby barrel, blinked twice.

"I know, I know. I'm just the maid and he's a... Well, I don't rightly know what he does for a livin', but you seen him. That Mr. Jones... Thaddeus," she sighed, savoring the sound of his name, "he sure ain't your average drifter. You can take my word on that."

A yawn expressed the cat's indifference to the one-sided conversation.

"And I think he likes me," Della continued, dreamily swirling the laundered sock around the rinse water before stuffing it into the wringer and turning the crank.

Growing restless, the cat rose and stretched.

"You think I'm wrong? That I'm headed for a broken heart?"

The cat fixed Della with a seemingly knowing expression before she jumped down and meandered toward the barn.

Della's shoulders slumped briefly in response, but then she lifted her chin proudly. "Well he's worth the risk, that's for sure. And broken heart or no, I'm gonna find out."

**-ooOoo-**

"Another piece of pie, Mr. Jones?" Della asked, hovering with the coffee pot that evening after supper.

"I don't think I could eat another bite. Everything was wonderful. Haven't tasted home-cookin' like that since, well, since my mama's, back in Kansas."

"I was in Kansas once," Della began excitedly, but was interrupted by Mrs. Bertram.

"Mr. Jones, will you be staying with us here in Colorado Springs very long?"

"Not long at all I'm afraid, Mrs. Bertram. I'm just waitin' for word from a friend of mine and then I'll be movin' on."

"...I came through Kansas when I was little, when my family moved west," Della interjected, trying to reclaim her place in the conversation. "Ferried across the Kansas River at a place called Lawrence."

Before the Kid could open his mouth to respond, Mrs. Bertram interrupted again. "Della, may I see you in the kitchen please?"

"Yes, ma'am," Della replied, and dutifully followed her employer from the dining room.

"Must I remind you, that the help does not fraternize with the guests?"

"Yes, ma'am. I mean, no ma'am; you won't need to remind me again."

**-ooOoo-**

A soft tapping interrupted Curry's gun-cleaning session. He smiled at the now-familiar sound and moved to the door, opening it without reservation.

"I brought your clean laundry. Washed, dried, ironed, and folded. You want me to put it away for you?"

"Sure," the Kid answered, holding the door as Della ducked under his arm. He watched as her capable hands tucked his clothing neatly into the dresser drawers. "Thank you."

She stopped and looked at him questioningly. "Thank you for what?"

"You work hard, Della, washin' clothes, changin' sheets, cleanin' rooms." He pointed toward the upper, southeast corner of his room. "Leavin' spider webs intact when requested," he said with a smile. "Not to mention, cookin' one of the best suppers I've enjoyed in a long time."

"You're welcome," she replied shyly. "Doin' those things, especially for a man nice as you, the work don't seem hard." She glanced nervously toward the door. "I should go. If Mrs. Bertram finds me up here fraternizin' with you, she'll have my hide."

"Fraternizin'," he chuckled. "Not everybody thinks like Mrs. Bertram, Della, and I kinda like fraternizin' with you. Just don't let her scare you off from what life's all about, okay? Ya know, someday some nice fella's gonna come along and figure out you're everything he's been wantin' all along, and then..."

"Then what?" she gulped.

"Then Mrs. Bertram is gonna lose one heck of a good cook." As he pushed a wayward strand of hair from her face, his fingers brushed gently across her cheek.

Without realizing it, Kid Curry had just wrapped those same fingers firmly around Della Jenkins' heart.

**-ooOoo-**

Della drew a pan from the oven and inhaled deeply, savoring the sweet morning aroma of fresh cinnamon rolls - Mr. Jones' favorite. Hadn't he told her so only yesterday morning? A dreamy smile spread across her face.

Just then, the barn cat appeared on her daily tour of duty, keeping the kitchen and pantry areas clear of unwanted invaders. She looked toward Della and mewed her good morning.

"'Mornin', Miss Kitty," Della greeted, bending to pick up the feline, and stroking her soft fur.

Miss Kitty purred.

"Just so you know, Mr. Jones does like me! Said so last night when I took his clean laundry up to his room." She rubbed her cheek against the cat, remembering gentle fingers against her cheek. "He even hinted about the two of us gettin' married."

The cat lifted an eyebrow, seeming to indicate serious doubt.

"He sure enough did," Della assured her. "Said someday some fella was gonna figure out I'm everything he's been wantin' and then Mrs. Bertram would lose a fine cook."

Miss Kitty squirmed from Della's arms.

"Well 'course he meant him and me. Who else would he been talkin' about?" Della placed her hands on her hips and shook her head, but as the cat stalked away, doubt began to slither in. She bit her lip, nervously. "All I need is a little more time. Just a few days, maybe a week. If Mr. Jones will just stick around long enough, I'm SURE he'll figure out I'm everything he's been wantin' all along, like he said."

Just then, a knock came at the back door. Wiping her hands, Della opened the door.

"Telegram for a Mr. Thaddeus Jones," a boy informed her.

Della fished in the pocket of her apron for a coin, and handed it to the boy. "I'll give Mr. Jones his telegram," she mumbled, shutting the door.

To Thaddeus Jones - Colorado Springs. From Joshua Smith - Denver.

_I'm just waitin' for word from a friend of mine and then I'll be movin' on._ Mr. Jones' words echoed inside her mind and reverberated inside her empty chest, in the place her heart had occupied until moments ago before it had fallen to the pit of her stomach.

"Time," she whispered. "I just need a little more time." Checking over her shoulder, Della stuffed the telegram deep inside her pocket.

**Five Days Later **

"Sunday services will be over by noon, so I'll be back before dinnertime, Della," Mrs. Bertram explained to her employee. "Are you sure you can handle everything here alone?"

Della glanced toward the dining room where Thaddeus Jones sat, finishing his breakfast. "Everything will be fine, ma'am. See you after services." She shut the door behind Mrs. Bertram and headed to the dining room with the morning newspaper.

"More coffee?" Della offered, setting a copy of the _Colorado Chronicle_ on the table, near Mr. Jones.

"Sure. Awful quiet around here this morning. Where is everybody?"

"Church. It's Sunday."

"Right. Guess I wasn't thinkin'." He set his napkin to the side. "How come you're not there?"

"Because it's my Sunday to work. You're the only one here, so you can sit as long as you like."

"Thanks. I think I'll just relax and read the mornin' paper while I enjoy another one of your cinnamon rolls." He reached for one, giving her an appreciative wink, and opened the newspaper.

The words that exploded from Kid Curry's mouth at that moment had never before been uttered in Mrs. Bertram's Bed and Board.

Della's hand flew to her mouth in shock as she saw Mr. Jones jump up abruptly, sending his coffee spilling across the tablecloth and his chair crashing to the floor behind him. Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the third floor in no time.

Della righted the chair, then cautiously read the headline that seemed to have caused the ruckus.

NOTORIOUS OUTLAW ARRESTED!

_Notorious outlaw, Hannibal Heyes, was arrested this week in Denver, in the attempted murder of Arizona Governor C. Meyer Zulick. Mr. Heyes, also known as Joshua Smith..._

Trembling, Della reached into her pocket.

To Thaddeus Jones - Colorado Springs. From Joshua Smith - Denver. Come to Denver immediately. Good News.

Della squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then opened them. Steeling her nerves, she ascended the stairs.

**-ooOoo-**

"Can I come in?" Della asked. Since the door to his room stood open wide, there had been no need for her to knock. "Mr. Jones?"

The Kid didn't answer. He was too involved in shoving clothing from the dresser drawer directly into his saddlebags.

Della watched him packing. Packing to leave for good. "Mr. Jones, can I talk to you?"

"Look, I really don't have time right now."

"I know. You have to get to Denver, to help your friend, Joshua Smith."

Curry stilled immediately, and then turned to look directly at Della. "That's right, Della. I need to get to Denver to help my friend, Joshua Smith." He crossed his arms over his chest. "You wanna explain just how it is you know that?"

"From the article in the newspaper... On the table..." Della stammered.

"Nope," the Kid shook his head. "That's not gonna cut it." He moved closer, his eyes cold and accusing. "The article might have mentioned Joshua Smith, but it didn't say anything about him bein' my friend."

Della looked down, unable to hold his gaze. Backing away, her legs bumped into a chair and she sat, abruptly.

The Kid leaned forward, resting one hand on each of the chair's arms, effectively trapping Della where she sat. "Well?" he demanded.

Della took a deep breath and pulled the telegram from her pocket. She extended it toward him and lifted apologetic eyes to his. "I figured Joshua Smith was your friend 'cause he sent you this," she hesitated, then finally finished, "five days ago."

"Five days ago?" His volume seemed to increase with each word and his eyes flashed angrily.

The girl shuddered, but rushed on. "I should have given it to you soon as it got here. I'm sorry!"

Curry snatched the telegram from her and scanned it briefly. After a few moments, he spoke again, but this time his voice dead calm, so emotionless that it frightened her. "You should go, Della. I'm busy." He returned to his packing.

Visibly quaking, Della rose and made her way toward the open door. With one hand on the doorframe, she turned to look at him again. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones. Truly I am."

He turned to look at her, his eyes cold again. "I was waitin' for that telegram, Della! Why'd you go and do somethin' stupid like that?"

Della hung her head low. "You're right, I am stupid."

The Kid's shoulders slumped, her words striking a raw nerve. _Are you callin' me stupid?_ _No, Kid, I said don't DO anything stupid._

"I didn't say you were stupid, Della, I said what you did was stupid."

"Sounds like the same thing to me." She turned to leave. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Jones."

The Kid stepped toward her again and caught her arm. "Why'd you do it, anyway?"

"Don't matter," she sniffed. "Like you said, it was stupid." Della swiped a tear from her cheek. "But if there's anything I can ever do to make it up to you," she vowed, "anything at all!"

**Brown Palace Hotel – Denver**

Lom Trevors opened the door to his hotel room, took off his hat and tossed it on the bed. Closing the door behind him, he let out a long sigh. He took a step into the room and then froze when he sensed more than heard the presence of someone directly behind him.

"Howdy, Lom," a familiar voice said.

Lom turned slowly to face Curry's Colt, which was pointed directly at him.

"Kid, put that gun down! Didn't you get Heyes' telegram? You're not wanted any more. You finally got everything you've been waiting for."

"Not everything."

Trevors frowned. "I don't know what happened in there between Heyes and Zulick, but it doesn't affect you. You still have your amnesty. Don't throw it all away."

"The devil it doesn't affect me!" Curry exclaimed. "We both get amnesty or neither of us do. That's the deal."

"You did both get amnesty," Lom growled, "in Wyoming Territory. Now, Heyes is charged with attempted murder—in Colorado."

"I don't believe that," Curry stared into the other man's eyes.

"I don't want to believe it either, Kid, but the facts are the facts. If Zulick dies, they'll hang him within the week."

Curry sucked in a breath of air. "Well then, we'd better get him out of here before that happens."

"Kid, I can't help you do that. I'm a sworn lawman."

"You've helped us before," Curry pressed.

"Not breaking the law," Trevors said flatly. "I work for the governor of the Territory of Wyoming. In fact, when Moonlight heard what happened, he ordered me to get back here to make sure Heyes doesn't escape."

"Moonlight isn't in town?"

"No, he went back to Cheyenne to file your amnesty papers," he added ironically. "He's being kept apprised of Zulick's condition. The two were old friends."

"Isn't there anything you can do?"

"No. I tried, but my reputation is on the line here, and if the governor dies…" Lom let his words trail off.

"Then I'm sorry, Lom," the Kid said simply. "Turn around."

"What?" Lom's face showed sudden surprise and a trace of fear.

"Turn around," Curry commanded, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.

Trevors hesitated and glared at the younger man, then reluctantly obeyed.

Curry lifted is his gun and brought the butt down hard on the back of the lawman's head. Trevors crumpled to the floor.

**Sheriff's Office – Denver**

The afternoon sun was beating down as Kid Curry stepped onto the porch of the Denver Sheriff's Office. He nodded to the deputy standing guard and proceeded into the building.

"Afternoon, deputy, we didn't get a chance to meet the other day. I'm Lom Trevors from Porterville." Curry smiled and displayed a tin star and credentials.

The man rose from behind the desk and eyed his visitor cautiously, with one hand near the gun that hung on his hip. He silently made eye contact with the second deputy, who assured him with a glance that he too, was on guard.

"Pleased to meet you, Sheriff. I'm Billy Foster and that there is Bud Leary." He gestured toward the man standing in the doorway. "I've heard good things about you. I thought you'd be older."

"I hear that all the time," Curry said with a laugh, thankful that apparently neither of the two deputies had ever met Trevors. He had watched deputies come and go until he was sure that the two men who had been guarding Heyes during Lom's earlier visit were not the same two on duty.

"The sheriff didn't expect you back today or he'd have made sure he was here himself to see you," the deputy said, apologetically.

"Well, that's okay. He told me all of his men were completely trustworthy when I asked him about the security around here. That man in there is awful dangerous, you know."

"Oh, we know, that's why we sure were happy to hear you were coming down to help keep him in line—you bein' an expert on Heyes and Curry, that is."

Curry raised his eyebrows in surprise at this comment. "Well, I wouldn't say expert, but I do know their habits pretty well. Speakin' of that, I have somethin' real important I remembered I need to tell the sheriff. Where is he?"

"He had to go out to his place and check on his stock. He's got a ranch couple of miles outside of town."

"You'd better send Bud out to get the sheriff right away."

Billy hesitated. "Well, I don't know, the rule is there always has to be two of us here guarding Heyes."

"Well, I'm here, aren't I? You and me make two, don't we?"

The deputy smiled. "Well, yeah, I guess we do. Bud, you go get Sheriff Wilson and tell him Sheriff Trevors has something real important to tell him."

Bud hesitated for a moment before he nodded and headed off.

Curry looked around the small office. "Nice place you got here."

"Why, thank you, Sheriff," Billy said with a smile.

"There's just one thing I need you to do," Curry said, returning the smile.

"Anything at all, Sheriff," Billy offered.

"Give me your gun," Curry said, smoothly drawing and leveling his own gun at the deputy.

"What?" Billy stammered.

"You heard me; take it out nice and slow and hand it over."

Billy complied, a sick look coming over his face.

"What are you doing, Sheriff Trevors?" Billy asked, hoping that what was happening wasn't really happening.

"Get the keys and open Heyes' cell," Curry told him, his voice calm and steady.

"But why?" Billy stammered.

"I'm takin' that man outta here, and you're not goin' to stop me—if you want to live." Curry's voice hardened as finished the sentence.

Billy sucked in a ragged breath. "I want to live," he said as he reached into the desk drawer.

"Slow—and don't go for a gun. You know I can kill you before you'd ever get it in your hand."

Billy nodded, and pulled the key from the drawer.

"Okay, let's go," Curry ordered, gesturing for Billy to lead the way through the heavy wooden and barred door to the cells.

Heyes was standing at the bars with a grin on his face when Curry and Deputy Foster approached his cell. "Well, you sure are a sight for sore eyes," he said with a broad grin.

"Told ya not to go off without me, didn't I?"

"I'll never doubt you again, partner," Heyes said, smiling, as Billy Foster fumbled with the key to unlock the cell door.

"Partner?" Billy Foster looked from one man to the other, and groaned as the situation became clear.

Heyes reached for the bandana around Foster's neck and slipped it up over his mouth. He tied it securely and then retrieved a pair of handcuffs to secure the man's hands behind his back.

"Wouldn't want you to take that gag off and call for help now, would we?" Heyes asked the man, who shook his head in defeat.

"Time to go," Curry said impatiently, and handed him the gun he'd taken from the deputy. "Don't know where yours is, so this will have to do."

"Evidence, I suppose," Heyes muttered. "It being the murder weapon and all."

Curry gave him an inquiring look, but moved quickly toward the door. Once on the street, the two men walked casually to the horses that had been hitched to the post.

"What took you so long?" Heyes asked in a whisper.

"Fill ya in later," Curry muttered.

"A woman?" Heyes asked, raising his eyebrows.

Curry responded with a sharp glare and said nothing.

**-ooOoo-**

The two fugitives kept off the main trails and rode into the night. They rode even though they could barely see the detail of the terrain. Trusting the horses' instincts was not as dangerous as waiting for the posse that would surely come after them at first light.

"If we can get into those rocks up ahead before the posse comes over that last rise, we can lose 'em."

Curry nodded, but his face registered doubt. "You think we oughta head north or south?"

"Well, they'll expect us to head for Mexico, so we should go north. Except, Lom would figure we're too smart to do what they'll expect, so we'll go south."

"I dunno Heyes, Lom might not think we're that smart these days," Curry muttered.

Heyes thought for a minute. "You're right. We'll go north."

"If we don't make it to the rocks before sunup it won't matter."

"We'll make it, then we'll go somewhere unexpected and I'll figure a way out of this."

Curry shot him a skeptical look. "Well, Lom won't be any help, that's for sure."

"Why not?" Heyes asked.

"I got a feelin' Lom's gonna be none too happy...once he wakes up."

"Once he wakes up? What are you talking about, Kid?

"I'm talkin' about the headache Lom's gonna have."

"Headache?" Confusion turned to anger on Heyes' face. "You didn't!

Kid shrugged. "It was the only way."

"Couldn't you have just tied him up and gagged him?"

"Sure Heyes, if I wanted him to follow me down to the sheriff's office about ten minutes after I left." Curry shook his head, and then his expression turned hopeful. "Do you think Silky can hide us out?"

"No, Lom knows Silky. They'd check his place for sure."

Curry's expression fell. "Maybe we should go to Mexico."

"And live the rest of our lives with people thinking we're killers?"

"You, Heyes, people think you're a killer. Not me."

"But we're partners. They'll figure you were in on the whole thing; especially since you broke me out. We have to find somewhere to hide out until we can figure out who set us up; we need someone who the law doesn't know about to help us out."

Curry sighed heavily and nudged his horse to go faster. "Heyes, we gotta go south."

"But I thought we decided not to go to Mexico?"

"Not Mexico, Colorado Springs."

"But Lom knows we were just there," Heyes argued.

"Exactly, Heyes, there's no way he would think we were dumb enough to go back to the last place he knew where to find us."

Heyes' expression turned skeptical and he opened his mouth to object.

"Besides," Curry cut him off before he had a chance to speak. "I might just know someone who'd be willin' to help us out."

"Who?"

"Della, the maid at Mrs. Bertram's Bed and Board. I got a room there after you left for Denver."

"We can't stay in a public boarding house," Heyes complained.

"Didn't plan to," Curry said simply. "While I was there I was bored so I rode around a lot, looked for places to practice my shootin'. Out toward Cripple Creek, I ran across a lot of abandoned miner's shacks —some of 'em real outta the way. Della owes me a favor. I think she'll help us hide out and bring us supplies."

Heyes gave his partner an appraising look. "Okay, Kid, if you say so," he agreed, and continued riding.

**-ooOoo-**

It was nearly dawn and the first morning light had begun to spread a pink hue across the sky behind the mountains. The two had been riding side by side since the decision had been made to head back toward Colorado Springs. Along the way, Heyes filled his partner in on the events that had occurred in the governor's suite.

"So there you have it, Kid, they caught me standing over the governor, holding the gun that had just shot him—my gun." He shook his head miserably.

"What did Donovan say?" Curry asked.

"You mean after he almost shot me?" Heyes' face soured. "I thought the man was going to kill me on the spot. He thinks I planned the whole thing to assassinate the governor. The circumstances makes Lom look pretty bad too. I sure hope this maid owes you a big favor, I think we're going to need it."

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

**Hospital – Denver**

Doc Donovan paced the hallway in the Denver hospital where his boss and friend, Governor Zulick, lay unconscious. "Nurse?" he said, touching the arm of the young woman who had just exited the governor's room. "How is he? Is he any better?"

"I'm sorry," the young woman said, apologetically. "I'm afraid there's no change. Even though the bullet only grazed his head, he's still in very serious condition. It's hard to tell how much trauma the impact caused." She gave the older man a gentle smile. "He's very lucky to have a friend like you."

_Friend like me_ Donovan thought ruefully. _I brought that man into Conrad's life. I hired Heyes and Curry and now Heyes has shot him._ He shook his head in confusion. It didn't make any sense. The man he'd spent several days with, and believed he knew, wasn't a violent man. Hadn't he and Curry said they'd spent most of their lives trying not to use their guns? _And yet, I saw him standing over Conrad with the gun in his hand._

"Sir?" the young nurse touched his arm. "You can sit with him if you'd like. Some people think it helps to hear a familiar voice."

"Thanks, but I think I'll just stay out here," Donovan said, looking uncomfortable.

The young woman gave him a scolding look. "If you're his friend, you should sit with him. Talk to him," she said, and then turned down the hall and disappeared around the corner.

"Why would Heyes do it?" Donovan wondered aloud. "He had amnesty. He had the second chance he said he wanted. Why would he do it?"

"That's right. Why?" A voice behind him asked, and Donovan spun around in surprise.

"Trevors, what are you doing here?" Donovan asked, regaining his composure.

"I wanted to see how the governor is doing," the Wyoming lawman answered. "and I'm wondering the same thing you are. Heyes had no reason in the world to shoot Governor Zulick…unless…there's more to that story about Mexico? Did something happen down there that would make Heyes want to shoot him?"

"No!" Donovan said emphatically. "Everything was fine. You heard what Conrad said last week. He was very grateful to Mr. Heyes."

"Then why would Heyes do something so stupid? He must have known he'd never get away with it."

"I don't know," Donovan mumbled.

"Well, you were with him. You found him standing over Zulick. What do you think happened?" Lom raised his voice, eliciting a very reproachful look from the nurse at the end of the hall. "What did Heyes say when you found him?"

"He denied it, which was ridiculous because he was holding the gun. He said something about the aide, Parker, coming in, but Parker was right behind me when we rushed in."

"This aide, Parker, were you with him the whole time Heyes was in with Zulick?"

Donovan frowned. "Well, no, I waited in the outer room and Parker took Heyes in to see Conrad, but he was right outside the door when I ran in and we entered Conrad's private office together. You don't think that Parker…"

"I don't know what to think, Doc, but someone shot Zulick, and Heyes, Parker, and you were the only men there."

Donovan was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was soft and steady. "I can't think of any reason that Parker would want Conrad dead, but if he did, then Conrad's life is still in danger. I'm going to see that he's guarded and then I'm going to look into Parker's background. Don't repeat this conversation, Trevors. If Parker did do this, I don't want him to know we're on to him."

"Let me know what I can do," Lom offered. "I'll try and meet you later, but first, I have to go see the federal marshal that arrived this morning."

"Don't worry," Donovan said confidently. "I'll find out if Parker had anything to do with this."

Trevors and Donovan shook hands and Trevors left the hospital.

**Sheriff's Office – Denver**

"You wanted to see me, Marshal Tucker?" Trevors stood facing the United States federal marshal.

"That's right, Trevors," Tucker said, eyeing the other man with suspicion.

"I've given my statement to Sheriff Wilson. He has everything I have on Heyes and Curry."

The marshal smiled grimly, "Hardly everything, Sheriff. You rode with the Devil's Hole Gang. You've been friends with Heyes and Curry for years."

"I don't understand," Trevors said, narrowing his eyes. "Where's Sheriff Wilson?"

"He was called out of town so I'm in charge now, and I have a few questions of my own. You recommended amnesty for those two outlaws and you've been their advocate in Wyoming. You vouched for Hannibal Heyes when he came into this city to meet with the Arizona governor. And then…Kid Curry uses your name to break Heyes out of jail. What I want to know is, were you in on it with them from the beginning?"

"Marshal, I can assure you that I had absolutely nothing to do with the attack on Governor Zulick—or the jail break."

"That's good, because I want you to lead the special posse that I'm putting together."

"But, Marshal, I can't…"

"Are you refusing to assist in their capture?" the marshal interrupted.

"No, but…"

"Then you can prove that by bringing those two fugitives in. That Wyoming amnesty paper is no good here—and I assume it will be revoked as soon as Governor Moonlight takes care of the paperwork. Meanwhile, Heyes is wanted for attempted murder, and Curry for assault with a deadly weapon, obstruction of justice, and aiding a fugitive. Bring 'em in and maybe there won't be any charges filed against you as an accomplice. Understand?"

"Understood," Trevors muttered.

"One more thing, Sheriff," the marshal began. "I'm going to need you to talk to my sketch artist so we can get their likenesses on these new posters. There's a reward out for their capture—dead or alive," he added ominously.

**Miner's Shack – Cripple Creek, Colorado**

"Heyes, you're gonna want to see this," Curry said, holding up the newspaper that Della had brought.

Heyes took the paper and scanned the front page. "So," he huffed, "Lom's heading up the posse. Says here he was given the job because he knows our habits and likely associates."

"Do you think he'll go to Clem's?" Curry asked.

"Maybe, but it won't matter, she hasn't seen us in months." A frown crossed Heyes' face. "Lom knows we were in Colorado Springs."

"Which is why he won't think we came back here, right?"

"I don't know," Heyes said, pensively. "I got a bad feeling."

**Colorado Springs**

Sheriff Lom Trevors and a posse of eleven other men stepped out of the livery in Colorado Springs.

"Men, Heyes and Curry were here recently, so there are bound to be townsfolk who remember seeing them. They would have been using the aliases, Smith and Jones. Split up, go in and talk to folks two at a time. We'll make a thorough search, then stay the night. Tomorrow at sunup we'll follow up on any leads we come up with."

"Split up? What if they're still here?" one of the younger riders asked nervously.

"I doubt they'll be staying in town." Trevors waved a hand dismissively. "We're looking for anybody who's seen them, or helped them. See who looks nervous when you ask about them. But…" Trevors looked around the group and into each man's face. "If you do suspect they're here, do not approach them by yourself. Do not shoot. Wait for back up and we'll take them alive."

"Why?" demanded a tall, thin man with a mustache.

"Yeah, why not shoot?" asked another, shorter and plumper man.

"That reward says dead or alive. I'm takin' a shot if I got one," exclaimed another.

"Not while you're under my authority!" Trevors shot back angrily. "You wait and we take them alive, or you ride on back to Denver right now. Everybody got that?"

Shakes of eleven heads assured Lom his instructions were clear.

"Leary, you're coming with me," he informed the young deputy from the Denver Sheriff's Office.

"Me? You're picking me? I got to tell you, Sheriff Trevors, what an honor it is having you choose me to..."

"The rest of you," Lom interrupted, "pair off and start searching." He fixed each member of the posse with menacing eyes that demanded obedience. "But, remember," the sheriff called out, reclaiming the group's attention as they moved to follow orders, "Curry and Heyes are to be taken alive!"

Several nods of acknowledgement from members of the posse assured Lom his directive had been heard. Still, a sliver of doubt remained. Would his order be followed? Lom watched as the group paired off and moved to begin their search. One Nervous Nellie, one itchy trigger-finger, could result in tragedy. The lives of this posse were in his hands, not to mention the lives of Heyes and Curry. A voice at Lom's side suddenly shook him from his thoughts.

"...I just can't tell you how glad I am you picked me to be the one to come with you, Sheriff Trevors," Bud Leary went on. "You have no idea how many dime novels I've read about those outlaws, Heyes and Curry. All them trains and banks they robbed, and never shot anyone!" The young deputy shook his head in awe. "And to be the one with you when you catch 'em! You say you used to ride with 'em? You were an honest to goodness member of the Devil's Hole Gang?"

"Look, Leary," Lom leaned closer until his nose was inches from Bud's face. "You're the only member of this posse, other than me, who can identify Heyes and Curry on sight. I want you right here, next to me, where I can keep a real good eye on you, understand? Last thing I need is you going off half-cocked and identifying the wrong two fellas." Or, Lom thought, identifying the right two fellas without me there to make sure you don't get them killed!

"Yes, sir," Bud beamed, seemingly oblivious to the threat that hung heavy in the air around him. "And like I said, Sheriff Trevors, it's just an honor to be servin' with..."

"No time for small-talk, Leary." Lom moved toward the boardwalk with Bud at his heels.

"...yes indeedy, a man who actually rode with Heyes and Curry!"

**Hospital – Denver**

"How is he today, Nurse Henderson?" Donovan asked the young brunette who had now become accustomed to his frequent visits.

"He's stirring and showing signs of waking up," the young woman said, flashing a bright smile. "The doctor will be in to check on him this morning."

"That's good news," he said, careful to keep his enthusiasm in check. "Do many people with head injuries like his make a full recovery?"

Nurse Henderson's face turned thoughtful. "Some do, Mr. Donovan, and I have a feeling that Governor Zulick will be one of them."

"Thank you," Donovan gave her a grateful smile. "Now I think I'll go down the hall and just say hello."

"I'm sure your visits help," she called after him.

"Morning, Billy," Doc Donovan greeted the deputy sheriff who sat outside of Governor Zulick's hospital room. "Any visitors during the night?"

"No, sir, not a soul since I've been on duty."

"Good," Donovan frowned. "I hear from the nurse, that he might be waking up. I want you to stay alert, is that understood?"

Billy's face paled. "You think Heyes and Curry will try and come back to finish the job? I sure don't want to meet up with those two again. That Curry, he's a mean one alright."

Donovan was surprised by the deputy's comment. "No, I don't think they'll come back, but I thought you said Curry and Heyes didn't hurt you?"

"Well, they didn't. They just looked real mean. Especially Curry, he had eyes that bore right into you," Billy bristled. "I mean, I would have tried to stop him, but I thought he was gonna kill me."

Donovan was silent, remembering the friendly, blue-eyed man he'd traveled with. Even during Conrad's rescue, Curry had remained even-tempered and he hadn't treated any of Zulick's captors harshly.

"Just guard this room. I don't want any visitors seeing him but me, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir, you can count on me," Billy nodded quickly.

"Alright, I'm going to go in and see how he's doing."

Donovan walked slowly into the room and stood by his friend's side. "Good morning, Governor, I hear you're feeling better. I sure am anxious to talk to you."

To his surprise, the man's eyes fluttered open and looked back at him in confusion. "Wha…wher…" The eyes closed for a moment and then opened again, staring back at him. "Doc?" Zulick said at last.

Donovan broke into a broad grin and almost laughed out loud. "That's right, Conrad, I'm here. It's good to hear your voice!"

"Wha…what's going on?"

"You're in the hospital. You've been injured. Do you remember what happened?" Doc waited in nervous anticipation.

Zulick furrowed his brow and was silent for a few moments. He started to shake his head, then winced and closed his eyes. "Head hurts," he mumbled.

"That's okay, Conrad, you just rest. I'm going to go get your doctor."

**-ooOoo-**

"So his memory loss may not be permanent?" Donavon was sitting with the doctor in the small hospital office.

"Oh, it's very common for patients with head injuries to take a little while to remember things. Some remember everything and some never remember the actual injury or the events immediately preceding. The fact that Governor Zulick knew you right away is a good sign, though."

"Doctor, I want to keep the specifics of his condition confidential. I don't want any of the hospital staff to speak to the reporters or mention the memory loss."

"Mr. Donovan, you can rest assured, I would never speak about a patient's medical condition to members of the press."

**Colorado Springs**

Dusk fell, shadows lengthening across the town of Colorado Springs. Inside Bertram's Bed and Board, Della Jenkins crept from the root cellar, her burlap sack nearly full, and tip-toed through the silent kitchen into the pantry, scanning the shelves. A couple loaves of bread, baked fresh this morning, and four left-over cinnamon rolls. She shoved them into her sack and pulled the drawstring tight. Quietly, she opened the back door and checked in all directions, making sure no one else was in sight. She stepped outside, into the quickly falling night, and was just about to pull the door closed behind her.

"Della! Are you going to answer that front door?" Mrs. Bertram's voice called.

"Yes, ma'am! On my way, ma'am." Della glanced furtively around the kitchen for an appropriate hiding spot for her sack of loot. Pressed for time, she shoved the goods into a corner of the pantry behind a potato bin before hurrying to the front door, just in time to hear another impatient knock. Flinging the door open wide, Della greeted the newcomers breathlessly, "Welcome to Bertram's Bed and Board."

"Welcome," Mrs. Bertram said, arriving at the front door only a moment behind Della. "How can we help you, gentlemen?"

Two men entered, removing their hats. "We need some food, ma'am. And rooms for the members of our posse to spend the night."

"Posse? Of course. Always willing to lend a helping hand to those upholding the law. I'm sure we can accommodate you and your men, Sheriff..."

"Trevors, ma'am. Sheriff Trevors, Porterville, Wyoming. And this is Deputy Leary, of Denver."

Della stood, transfixed, her eyes moving from the tin star on Sheriff Trevors' chest to the deputy badge on the younger man, and back again.

"You're a long way from home, Sheriff Trevors. You must be on very important business," Mrs. Bertram pried. Turning to Della she whispered, "Check all the rooms. Fresh water, you know the routine. Then get into the kitchen and help me get supper on for a hungry crowd. You and I are going to be busy tonight."

Della nodded and moved to comply. She hurried up the stairs, her mind whirling, her heart pounding. Sheriff! Posse! Were they looking for Mr. Jones and his friend? They had to be. That newspaper article had said something about Mr. Jones' friend being connected to a murder attempt. What had she gotten herself into by agreeing to hide them? Trouble, that's what. Big trouble. With trembling hands, she went through the motions of her tasks, all the while scrambling for a way out of the precarious position into which she had planted herself.

"Please, gentlemen, come in and sit down." Mrs. Bertram signaled toward the parlor. "Will your posse be arriving soon?"

"They will, ma'am, but first, if we may, we have a few questions."

"Of course." Mrs. Bertram sat near the two lawmen.

"We're looking for two men. Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry. We know they recently spent some time in Colorado Springs."

"Oh dear! Those dangerous outlaws here in Colorado Springs?" she shivered. "I certainly didn't see them, Sheriff. If I had, I would have...well, I don't know what I would have done!" she finished, fanning herself as if she thought she might faint.

"Well, they were probably using aliases. They often go by Smith or Jones, ma'am; false names."

"Jones. Hmmm. We did have a guest by the name of Thaddeus Jones, but he could not have been a desperate outlaw. He was very polite. No, I'm sure that Mr. Jones cannot possibly be the man you're looking for."

"Thaddeus Jones is a name often used by Kid Curry."

"Mr. Jones, Kid Curry? It seems unlikely, Sheriff, but I'm certain you know your business."

At the top of the staircase, Della took a deep breath. The sheriff and the deputy were still in the parlor with Mrs. Bertram. With luck, she could make it down the stairs and into the kitchen unnoticed. Quickly and quietly, she descended the stairs.

"Do you know where he may have gone, Mrs. Bertram?" Lom inquired.

"No, no. Mr. Jones left no forwarding address. In fact, now that I think of it, he never even said goodbye. Not to me, anyway. Della was the only one here when he checked out. Miss Jenkins will be down in a few minutes. Perhaps she can help you more than I. She did seem rather fond of Mr. Jones; not that I approve of my staff fraternizing with guests, mind you." Catching movement on the staircase from the corner of her eye, Mrs. Bertram turned. "Oh, here she comes now. If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I really need to begin preparations for your supper."

"Of course." Both men rose and moved to the foot of the stairs as Mrs. Bertram disappeared into the kitchen. "Miss Jenkins, we'd like to speak with you," Lom requested, placing himself directly in her path.

"Mrs. Bertram needs my help in the kitchen," Della countered, never meeting Trevors' eyes. Stepping to the side in an effort to go around him, she found the deputy blocking her way.

Lifting a hand to her elbow, Deputy Leary ushered Della toward the parlor. "We only need a moment of your time." Depositing her onto the couch, the deputy sat directly across from her.

The sheriff never sat. Instead, he paced the room. "We're looking for a man by the name of Jones," Lom began.

"There is no one here by that name, Sheriff," Della said, wondering just how far one could stretch the truth, before it would be categorized as an outright lie. "In fact, so many guests come and go, surely you can't expect that I would remember the names of each and every..."

"Mrs. Bertram already told us Thaddeus Jones stayed here."

"Thaddeus Jones. The name sounds vaguely familiar." Della tapped her chin, as if deep in thought.

"We think you know where he is."

"Oh yes. Thaddeus Jones. I remember now. He checked out." She made an attempt to rise, but Lom pressed her back down with a finger on her shoulder.

"When?"

"I'm sure if you ask Mrs. Bertram, she could check the books and..."

"I'm asking you!" Lom thundered.

Della flinched at the harsh tone of the sheriff's voice, then mumbled, "Sunday."

"Where is he now?" Lom demanded.

Della's eyes dipped toward the floor, guiltily. "Before he left, he said something about helping a friend in Denver."

"I know he's not in Denver, Miss Jenkins, and so do you." Lom leaned closer and whispered, threateningly, "Where is he?"

Della gulped, and cast a nervous glance toward the kind face of the deputy, silently seeking an ally.

"Deputy Leary isn't going to help you, Della. I want to know where Kid Curry is, and I want to know NOW!"

Della's head snapped up. "Kid Curry?" she asked in astonishment.

"That's right, Della. The man you know as Thaddeus Jones is really Kid Curry."

"You're wrong," Della insisted, shaking her head.

"No, I'm not." Lom's voice softened and he sat next to her on the couch. "There's a posse after him, Della, him and Hannibal Heyes."

"I don't know anything about Kid Curry," she stated emphatically, a hint of fear in her voice.

"But you do know where Thaddeus Jones is," Lom countered. "We need to get to him before the rest of that posse does. Kid Curry is wanted dead or alive, Della, and that posse doesn't care how they deliver him, no matter what name he's going by." He paused several moments, allowing his morbid statement to penetrate Della's weakening defenses. "Deputy Leary and I want to take him in, alive and unharmed. Will you help us?"

Della lowered her head, weighing her options, or the lack of them. Finally, she met the eyes of Deputy Leary, then Sheriff Trevors and nodded. "Alright. I can take you to him."

"Let's go." Lom reached for his hat.

"Not tonight. I'd never be able to find my way in the dark."

"Then just tell us where..." Deputy Leary began.

Della shook her head. "I can't explain it. I need to show you."

Lom and Bud exchanged a look. Bud shrugged.

"Alright. We'll leave at first light," Lom agreed. "But not a word about any of this when the posse shows up here tonight, understood?"

**Brown Palace Hotel – Denver**

"Evening, Parker," Donovan said brightly when the other man opened his door. Looking past Parker, Donavan observed a suitcase open on the bed. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes, I'm going back to Prescot. Acting Governor Richards is going to need my help sorting through the current issues that Governor Zulick has been working on."

Donovan raised his eyebrows. "Oh, Richards might not need to worry about that for too much longer."

"What do you mean?" Parker paled slightly.

"Governor Zulick woke up today! He's recovering," Donovan grinned broadly.

"Oh, my, that is good news," Parker said, his enthusiasm sounding slightly forced. "Has he, uh, talked about the shooting yet?"

"Oh, no, the doctor insisted we wait to talk to him until he's a little stronger. He'll probably make a full statement in a day or two though. I think you should stay right here until you've had a chance to see him. I'm sure it will give him great comfort to know you and I are both here for him."

"Of course," Parker agreed, looking relieved. "I'll stay right here. When can I see him?"

"Nine o'clock tomorrow morning," Donovan beamed.

"That'll be fine; I'll go over to the hospital first thing tomorrow morning."

Parker stepped back and took hold of the door knob. "See you then, Doc," he said as he closed the door.

**Bertram's Bed and Board – Colorado Springs**

With twelve posse members successfully fed and shown to their rooms, Mrs. Bertram cleared the remnants of supper from the dining room table. "That's the last of it." She sank into a kitchen chair and removed her shoes. "My feet have had it."

"You go ahead and turn in, Mrs. Bertram. I can finish up here," Della suggested.

"Oh, but I couldn't leave you to..." the older woman yawned, "to finish all by yourself."

"Don't be silly, it's just a bunch of dishes. Besides, I'm nearly done. You go ahead; I'll be fine."

"If you're sure," Mrs. Bertram finally agreed.

"I'm sure. Good night, ma'am."

"Good night, Della."

Listening for the creak of the stairs as Mrs. Bertram retired to her room, Della continued washing dishes. She strained her ears until she finally heard the click of her employer's bedroom door. Silently, she left the wash basin and crept to the dining room. Della held her breath, listening even more intently. Nothing. No sound at all, except for the pounding of her own heart. Less than two seconds later, Della Jenkins was out the back door, burlap sack in hand, into the night.

**-ooOoo-**

"You were right, Sheriff!" Bud Leary exclaimed from his post at the second story bedroom window. "Miss Jenkins is makin' a run for it, just like you said she would!"

"Knew it," Lom muttered, making a grab for his hat. "Let's go."

Quickly and quietly, Deputy Leary and Sheriff Trevors left Bertram's Bed and Board by the back door, trailing Della from a safe distance.

**-ooOoo-**

A soft knock on the door of the old line shack brought both Heyes and Curry to their feet, weapons already in hand. Heyes moved beside the window and peered carefully out. "It's Della," he said, exhaling in relief. He let his gun drop into its holster on the bedpost and flopped back onto the lumpy mattress.

Similarly, Curry holstered his Colt and opened the door.

Della burst inside and thrust her burlap sack into his arms. "Here, take this and get dressed," she ordered, tossing a shirt at the Kid. "You need to get out of here, right now!" She threw a hat in Heyes' direction. "Both of you!" she insisted.

"What happened?" Heyes asked, already pulling on his boots.

"A sheriff," Della told him, breathlessly, "and a deputy. They'll be here at sunup so you have to leave now," she repeated.

"How did they know where to find us?" Curry asked, securing his weapon to his right thigh.

"I told them! Or at least I told them I'd show them, tomorrow mornin' at first light."

The Kid stopped. "You told 'em?" He moved closer to Della. "Why?"

The girl hung her head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones. I know I owe you, for takin' your telegram and all, but..." she lifted her eyes to his. "This sheriff, he said you're Kid Curry." They locked eyes for a long moment.

The Kid was the first to break their gaze and Della's heart sank.

"He says you're wanted, dead or alive. Both of you. His posse wants to bring you in dead. All the sheriff wants is to bring you in, alive and unharmed. So I figured if I..."

Heyes moved for the door, but Della grabbed Curry's arm.

"Please don't be mad," she pleaded. "I didn't want to take a chance. Not with your life. And I figured if I could warn you quick enough, then tomorrow mornin' when the sheriff got here..."

"He's already here," Lom announced, stepping into the shack, weapon drawn, with Bud Leary right behind him.

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

**Outside the Brown Palace Hotel – Denver**

"Are you sure he's going to run?" Billy Foster gave Donovan a skeptical look. They had been waiting outside the Brown Palace all night and had not seen any sign of Parker. "The sun will be rising soon."

"I'd bet my life on it," Donovan said, confidently. "The desk clerk said Parker came down last night and asked him what time the early train leaves this morning."

Donovan was beginning to have doubts when he saw the first glow of the approaching sun. He stood and was about to stretch, when Foster put an arm on his shoulder and whispered. "Over there, by the side entrance."

A dark figure was coming out of the building and hurrying toward the street.

"Hold it right there!" Donovan shouted, leveling his rifle and stepping into the street.

"Parker, you're under arrest!" Deputy Foster shouted.

"What? Why?" Parker stammered.

"Governor Zulick started talking during the night. He said we had it all wrong and he wanted to set the record straight. He said you were the one who shot him." Donavan looked directly into Parker's eyes.

Parker's eyes looked wild and he glanced quickly around at the group surrounding him.

"No, it was Heyes," he said quickly. "The governor is confused."

"No he isn't, Parker, he was very clear. He said you burst into the room with Heyes' gun and shot him. He said Heyes even ran to him and tried to help." Donovan told the story Heyes had given over and over during his arrest and walk to the jail.

Parker blinked several times. "I want a deal," he said finally. "I can tell you who wanted Zulick dead, but you have to protect me."

Donovan smiled. "Mr. Parker, the best way to protect you is to get the person, or people, who planned this behind bars. You'd better start talking."

"I want to talk to Marshall Tucker. I want a deal first."

"Lock him up and call the marshal," Donovan said. "I'm going to go to my hotel room and get some sleep."

**-ooOoo-**

The abrupt pounding on his door woke Donovan from his deep sleep with a jolt. He opened his eyes and took a moment to orient himself. "What on earth…" he wondered, as he swung his legs over the bed and strode to the door.

Deputy Foster stood outside, white-faced and worried.

"Conrad?" Donovan asked as soon as he saw him.

"Uh, no, sir, it's Parker. He's dead."

"What?! How did that happen? Wasn't anybody watching him?"

"I went home to get a little sleep—like you," Foster added quickly. "The marshal found him when he got in this morning."

"Found him? What happened to him?"

"He, uh, hung himself in his cell," Foster hung his head and shook it slowly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Donovan; we never got to question him."

Donovan stared blankly past the deputy into the hallway. "Now we'll never know who wanted Conrad dead," he said dully.

"At least Sheriff Trevors captured Heyes and Curry," Foster said, encouragingly.

"What? Oh, that's good."

"Yep, the marshal says at least we still got the shooter."

Donovan's eyes widened and he stared at Foster. "Do you mean the marshal still thinks Heyes shot the governor?"

"Well, yeah, he said Heyes was found with the gun and there is no evidence that Parker was ever involved."

"No evidence? You heard him ask for a deal!" Donavan was shouting now and Foster looked scared.

"Marshal said there's no evidence now that Parker is dead," Foster repeated, shakily.

Donovan looked thoughtful for a moment. "Thanks for letting me know about this," he told Foster, his composure returning. "Has there been any change to Governor Zulick's condition?"

"Nurse says he's still the same."

"Thanks. I have to get dressed. Tell the marshal I'll be in to see him later," Donovan closed the door.

**Colorado Springs**

Lom Trevors walked out of the telegraph office and surveyed the group of men on horseback occupying the street. The posse had regrouped in Colorado Springs and now all that remained was the two-day ride back to Denver with the two prisoners. Prisoners. Trevors hated the fact that he was the one who had to bring Heyes and Curry in, especially handcuffed as they were, but they'd left him no choice. He was still mad at the Kid for the lump on the back of his head, but he supposed his own anger was mild compared to what Curry probably felt toward him at the moment. "Time to head out, boys," he told the men, taking the lead and heading toward Denver.

The group had covered several miles when the sound of a gunshot took Trevors completely by surprise. He swung his horse around and quickly took in the situation.

Horses stomped, tossed their heads, and reared in panic.

Heyes hit the ground.

Posse members looked on in confusion. Two of them raised their rifles but seemed unsure who to aim them at.

Curry looked frantic, as two of the men held onto his horse and restrained him from lurching out of the saddle. "Heyes!" he yelled.

One man struggled to get his horse under control. "Out of the way, Leary! I would have had him!" He leveled his gun at Heyes, presumably to finish what his first shot had started.

"Lom!" Curry appealed to Trevors.

"What the devil do you think you're doing?" Trevors demanded, training his own weapon at the rider who was taking aim at Heyes. "Put your gun down," he ordered.

Instead of holstering his weapon, the man fixed his gaze on Heyes with a look that Trevors knew all too well. Trevors fired an instant before the other man and the shooter lurched backward, tumbling from his horse as his own shot went high.

"Everybody settle down," Trevors shouted, not wanting any of the others to panic or start shooting. A quick look at Heyes confirmed his fear. The man had been hit by the first shot.

"Just grazed me," Heyes said quickly, through gritted teeth. "The guy wasn't a very good shot."

"Looks bad enough to need tending," Lom observed, noting the blood on Heyes' shirt sleeve.

"What's goin' on, Lom?" Curry demanded, and Trevors was relieved that the Kid was handcuffed and restrained.

"That's exactly what I want to know," Trevors addressed the members of the posse. "What made that man take a shot at the prisoner?"

"No idea, Sheriff, we was just ridin' along and all a sudden Joe there pulls out his gun and fires."

"His name wasn't Joe, it was Tom," one of the other men called out.

"Don't you all know each other?" Trevors asked, confused.

"Well, sure, most of us do, but that fella just joined up with us when the marshal was puttin' the posse together."

"I think the marshal brought him in," Leary said finally.

"How is he?" Trevors asked the two men who'd dismounted and were checking the fallen posse member.

"Dead, Sheriff," one of the men reported.

Trevors stared down the road they'd just travelled. "We're going back to Colorado Springs," he said finally. "I want to have a doctor look at Heyes' arm and send another telegram to Denver."

**-ooOoo-**

"Okay boys, this is going to be your accommodation for the night," Lom told his old friends, as he turned the key in the lock of the Colorado Springs jail cell.

"Are you going to tell us what was in that telegram you got from Denver today? And why you sent the rest of the posse home?" Curry asked, irritation and fatigue evident in his voice.

"I suppose you have a right to know. There's something not right in Denver and I have reason to think you two are in danger."

Heyes and Curry exchanged incredulous looks.

"Lom – we're wanted dead or alive and this morning someone in the posse took a shot at me – I'm pretty sure _we are_ in danger!" Heyes exclaimed.

Trevors ignored the comment and studied Heyes' bandaged arm. "How's that feel?" he asked.

"Great, Lom, just great. The doc cleaned it up and said the bullet barely scratched me," Heyes said, plastering a stiff smile on his face and staring at the lawman.

"It's a little more than a scratch; there was a lot of blood on your shirt," Lom persisted.

"Yeah, it was nice of the doc to give me this fresh shirt. Now what the devil are you talking about?" Heyes demanded.

"Well, it's like this," Lom began. "Doc Donovan believed your story and tricked Parker into showing his hand. He said the governor was getting his memory back and would be able to tell them the whole story soon, so Parker tried to make a run for it and Donovan caught him. He was locked up in the jail last night, but when the marshal went in to see him this morning—he found him dead. Then with what happened this morning—that man had no reason to take a shot at you! I gave them all specific orders not to shoot."

"Gee, thanks, Lom," Curry interjected, half-heartedly.

Lom glared at him briefly before resuming his story. "None of the other men knew this guy; he was new in town and just joined up with the posse.

"I don't think Parker killed himself. I think somebody is trying to cover his tracks, and I don't know how many men are involved or how far this thing goes. I think if I take you back to Denver your lives may be in danger."

"Lom, I think you need our help," Heyes said, with the first authentic smile he'd shown in days.

**Hospital – Denver – Two Days Later**

The young nurse smiled warmly as she walked Doc Donovan down the hall toward the hospital exit. "I'm so glad that Governor Zulick has regained his memory. I'm sure that your presence helped him recover," she said.

"Just be sure he's not disturbed tonight. Tomorrow morning he is going to give a full statement about the attempt on his life."

"Don't you worry; he won't be disturbed at all," the nurse assured him. "I'm so glad that the men responsible for harming him have been captured and there is no need to post a guard by his door any longer."

Donovan nodded and glanced back toward the governor's room. "Yes, I'm very glad that all of the trouble is over. Are you here all night, ma'am?"

"Oh, no, the night nurse arrives in an hour and then I'm off. Good night, Mr. Donavan," the young woman said as she closed the door.

**-ooOoo-**

The hospital stood dimly lit and quiet. The night nurse sat with a chart in her lap, her head bobbing, first forward, then backward, finally coming to a comfortable rest against the chair's back. Her mouth fell open and her deep breathing became a gentle snore. She never noticed the creak of the outer door as it opened slowly, or the dark figure that slipped inside, moving stealthily past her toward the room of Conrad Zulick.

The man reached the door of the governor's room, opened it slowly, and looked around. It was dark but the form of a man could be seen lying still on the bed, covered in a blanket. The intruder reached for the pillow and slid it out from under the sleeping man's head. The patient's head jerked up and the intruder immediately stuffed the pillow over the man's face and began smothering him.

The man on the bed showed more strength than the attacker expected from the recovering patient, and the two began to struggle. The patient pulled his would-be killer onto the bed and rolled over him, pinning him down. The move took the attacker by surprise but he regained his composure and the two continued to wrestle.

A lantern suddenly illuminated the room, and the sound of two pistols being cocked caused both struggling men to freeze.

"Let him go," Kid Curry commanded, placing the barrel of his gun inches from the attacker's head.

"Hands up and turn around," Hannibal Heyes added, stepping from behind the curtains.

Slowly, Marshal Tucker turned and faced the guns. His face showed first surprise, and then slight fear.

"What are you doing here?" he questioned.

"I think that is the question you are going to have to answer," Lom Trevors said, as he sat up, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood up to join Heyes and Curry.

Tucker stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the three men. "Where's Zulick?" he demanded.

"Safe," Trevors replied, and then inclined his head toward the two men with guns. "I don't think you've had a chance to meet my two friends. Marshal Tucker, meet Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry."

"I know who they are," Tucker spat. "They are escaped criminals—supposed to be in your custody! What do you think you're doing?"

"Finding out who was behind the plot to assassinate Governor Zulick. It turns out it's you, Marshal Tucker."

"You can't prove that!" Tucker scoffed.

"Maybe, maybe not, but you did just try to kill a man in this bed—a man you thought was Governor Zulick," Heyes pointed out.

The door opened and Sheriff Wilson entered, flanked by his two deputies, Leary and Foster. Doc Donavan followed the lawmen into the room.

"You see, a few things just didn't add up, Marshal," Trevors began. "You arriving in town right after the attempt on Zulick's life—you said you just happened to be travelling in this part of Colorado. Then sending Sheriff Wilson away and taking over the investigation— why not let Wilson handle it? But what really got me thinking was when the man you brought in to ride with the posse tried to shoot Heyes—he had no reason to do that. Then, when Doc telegraphed with the message of how Parker had died in his cell—with you guarding him, well, Doc and I knew something was wrong."

"I believed Conrad's life was still in danger, but I had no proof, so I took a chance and asked Nurse Henderson to leak the story that he had regained his memory," Donovan added.

"You mean he hasn't?" Tucker looked surprised.

"No, he still doesn't remember the actual shooting. We were hoping if whoever was behind this thought the governor was unguarded, and was planning to give a statement tomorrow, that he would try again," Donovan explained.

"Don't you know what that man did?" Tucker became agitated. "He let all those renegades get away with murder! He told the citizens of Arizona that they couldn't rid their land of those murderers. He's soft on the unions too, wants to negotiate. Men like him are going to ruin this country. When President Cleveland hears that Governor Zulick has been assassinated by an outlaw, especially an outlaw he had just recommended for amnesty, he'll know for certain that Zulick's policies are a failure and he'll be forced to appoint a new governor—one with backbone."

"You didn't succeed in killing the governor and vigilante justice isn't going to solve the problems with the Apache. As for mine owners, they are going to have to listen to their workers or there is going to be more violence and death," Donovan defended his friend.

"You'd better believe there will be more violence!" Tucker yelled, his eyes blazing. "Parker showed incredible ingenuity, coming up with his spur-of-the-moment plan to rid Arizona of that albatross, Zulick, and the West of its most notorious outlaw in one fell swoop. But there are many of us, Donovan, patriots like myself and Parker. Men who would stop at nothing to further our cause."

"I think I've heard enough," Sheriff Wilson announced. "Tucker, you're under arrest. Bud, Billy, take this man to the jail and lock him up."

"Sure thing, Sheriff," Bud Leary replied, and the two deputies escorted Tucker from the room.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Heyes," Wilson said, giving the former outlaw an appraising look.

"Good to see you too, Sheriff," Heyes said, with an uneasy smile on his face.

"I suppose what the marshal said here tonight clears you of the charge of attempted murder," the sheriff admitted.

"Thank you, sir," Heyes said with a broadening grin.

"But you," Wilson turned to Curry. "You are still wanted for assault and breaking a man out of my jail."

Curry paled and looked at Trevors, who in turn looked at Donovan.

"Uh, Sheriff, you see, I suspected that the attempt on Conrad's life was part of a larger plot, and I had no idea who I could trust here in Denver, or how many were involved. Mr. Heyes and Mr. Curry helped me rescue Governor Zulick down in Mexico, and I already knew I could trust them," Donovan explained.

"That's right, Sheriff," Trevors embellished. "Mr. Heyes and Mr. Curry have been working with us all along, private investigators, you might say. The assault, the jail break, all parts of the plan to expose the plot on the governor's life and to set a trap to catch everyone involved."

Wilson blinked and looked at the four men in the room. "Is that how you all say it happened?"

"Yes, sir," all four men said in unison.

Wilson nodded. "Well, I guess the right man is in custody now because of all of you, so that sounds alright to me. But I want each of you in my office tomorrow morning to give your statement."

"We'll be there," Heyes said quickly. "Won't we, Kid?"

"Uh, yeah, we'll be there," Curry agreed.

"Good. Then I'll leave you all to go get some rest." Sheriff Wilson nodded and left the room.

"Lom, I don't know what to say," Heyes said, as soon as the sheriff was gone.

"Well, you'd better say what he said," Trevors inclined his head toward Donovan.

"...And what HE said," Doc gestured back toward Lom.

Heyes and Curry slapped each other on the back, grinning from ear to ear. "Lom," Heyes spoke for both of them, "we never knew you were such a good liar!"

**Epilogue – A Few Weeks Later**

Kid Curry turned his face to the sunny blue sky, and inhaled deeply of fresh, free mountain air. "Sure nice of Governor Zulick and Doc to throw that celebration for us before they went back to Arizona," he remarked.

His horse plodded on. Heyes' followed.

"Sure nice of Lom, too," he went on, "comin' back to Denver to congratulate us when Governor Moonlight made his public announcement. Lom and Doc took a big risk helpin' us out. And Della and Mrs. Bertram, sendin' us that telegram, wishin' us well. Nice folks."

They rode over hills, through wooded areas and meadows.

"And I've been thinkin'," Curry continued, "about all the places we can go now, all the things we can do."

This drew a mmm..." from Heyes.

"We could go see Silky in San Francisco, or Big Mac in Texas. We could even go back to Santa Marta if we wanted to, or China, or Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan."

The two riders stopped at a stream and dismounted, allowing their horses a rest.

"Somethin' botherin' you, Heyes?"

"Hm? Why?"

"'Cause we been on the trail since sunup and you haven't said more than two words."

Heyes shrugged and shook his head. "Amnesty."

"Yep," the Kid agreed. He smiled, took a deep breath and exhaled, "Amnesty." Curry turned pensive, kicked at a rock with the toe of his boot, and considered it a moment before he squatted down to pick it up. From his crouched position, he finally asked, "So, what should we do with our new-found freedom?"

When Heyes didn't reply, Curry tossed the rock downstream. "We were always so busy, stayin' one step ahead of bounty hunters, outrunnin' posses, lookin' for work, tryin' to keep body and soul together, didn't seem to be much time left for plannin' our future." He rose to face his partner. "So… what are you thinkin'? You got somethin' in mind?"

Heyes turned and walked several paces away, chuckling. The chuckling became laughter.

"Did I say somethin' funny?"

"Sorry, Kid. I'm not laughing at you, it's just..."

"Just what?" Curry's face was serious now. He took his partner's elbow, turning him around.

Heyes' expression sobered immediately. "Ever since we got our amnesty...It's so strange." He shook his head, "I got this image in my head that just won't let up."

"Like your whole life flashin' right in front of ya, right?"

"No, as a matter of fact, it's the floor plan to the Bank of Fort Worth."

Their eyes locked for several moments. Slowly, a grin began to twitch at the corner of Curry's mouth. The grin grew into a smile. "Heyes," he laughed.

Heyes continued looking at the Kid, his countenance unchanged.

This time it was Curry's expression that sobered. "You're kiddin'," he said with certainty, then checked. "Right?"

Without a word, Heyes mounted his horse and turned toward his partner.

"Heyes?" The Kid gathered his horse's reins.

Heyes smiled, a full dimpled smile, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He let out a whoop, and his horse was at a gallop.

"Heyes? You're kiddin', right?" Curry called after him, placing his foot in the stirrup and swinging into the saddle. "I sure hope you're kiddin'! Heyes!"

The End


End file.
